


efter begravelsen

by pensee



Category: Basic Instinct (Movies), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Mænd & høns | Men & Chicken (2015)
Genre: AU, Abrupt sex, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Backstory I don't know her, Coming of Age, Elias has a big cock, Elias's hypersexuality, Excessive Slick, Full Consent, In Copenhagen not on Ork, Inappropriate things to do in a laundry room, Intercrural Sex, Large Cock, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mutual Attraction, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Young Basic Chickens, after a funeral especially, basic chickens, first heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:25:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensee/pseuds/pensee
Summary: Elias hasn’t seen Adam in years—since their clumsy first (and sole) kiss at Maj-Britt’s wedding three years ago—and he almost doesn’t recognize the omega the moment he catches his first glimpse, the younger boy dressed up in a black romper and stilettos with a crazy number of straps as Adam sighs his way through conversing with various grieving relatives, trying to hide how disinterested he was in the death of a distant uncle he visited once a year during Julefest.Though being at Uncle Tommy’s funeral meant that Elias had to act a certain way, he couldn’t contain himself, checking his watch every few seconds, watching the hands tick towards noon. At noon, everyone would leave, and he could duck into the restroom for one last wank before Gabriel drove everyone home.-Elias and Adam reunite after a little while apart, just in time for Adam's first heat.
Relationships: Elias (Men & Chicken)/Adam Towers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	efter begravelsen

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is inspired by a movie of a similar title. I've never seen the movie though.
> 
> Enjoy this filthy fluff.

Elias hasn’t seen Adam in years—since their clumsy first (and sole) kiss at Maj-Britt’s wedding three years ago—and he almost doesn’t recognize the omega the moment he catches his first glimpse, the younger boy dressed up in a black romper and stilettos with a crazy number of straps as Adam sighs his way through conversing with various grieving relatives, trying to hide how disinterested he was in the death of a distant uncle he visited once a year during Julefest.

Though being at Uncle Tommy’s funeral meant that Elias had to act a certain way, he couldn’t contain himself, checking his watch every few seconds, watching the hands tick towards noon. At noon, everyone would leave, and he could duck into the restroom for one last wank before Gabriel drove everyone home.

Frowning as if in sympathy, Elias tries to nod, feigning interest in the new American beaux that Maj-Britt had met on a recent cruise in the South of France, just trying to catch another peek of Adam through the small crowd of mourners. He’d never understood the astounding amount of effort that omegas put into their appearances, though he did appreciate it, if his cock had anything to say about the perfect curve of Adam’s small feet in those insane heels.

He notices that Adam’s hair is longer, too, taking note of the perfect charm of such uncontrollable curls framing his still-soft face. Elias opens his mouth to call to him, but misses by a few seconds as Adam ducks into the laundry room, lighting a cigarette and huffing to himself.

“Adam!” Maj-Britt says, the omega ignoring her, his mind on having a smoke.

She turns to Elias, putting a solicitous hand on his arm. “Don’t mind him, Elias. He’s moody. It’s just that time of life for him, hm?”

Eye twitching, Elias wonders what she means.

The reasons an omega would be “moody”—and Elias has received many lectures from Gabriel on why talking about “hormones” (in public _or_ private) was sexist—were one: pregnancy, two: menstrual cycles, or three: adjusting to a new heat cycle.

Adam must be eighteen by now, he thinks; unless he is pregnant (according to their busybody cousin Ditte, Adam had never shown interest in anyone of any gender, no matter the plenty of interest shown him) or bleeding (Gud, why would Maj-Britt bring that up in casual conversation, much less at a wake), that means he’s—.

“Casserole!” Aunt Cindy says, appearing from somewhere with a giant dish of something that smells like mushrooms and cheese. “Bjørn made frikadeller, too, they’re on the table out front.”

Gabriel, expression discomfited, picks at a plate of cheese and grapes that Josef has just brought over, still reeling from Maj-Britt’s casual news about Adam’s “moodiness”.

“Well, Elias, you’ve grown!” Maj-Britt says, changing the subject because everyone’s made it clear they’d rather pursue anything else, but also pretending she doesn’t notice Søren ogling her low-cut top. Elias expects she’d gotten her boobs done this last summer, coming back from Spain in flowy dresses with two, _ahem_ , girls she didn’t have before Uncle Johnny left her.

Mouth flattening at the thought of big tits he shouldn’t be thinking about, Elias can’t help but stand a bit straighter at the compliment. His chest hair _had_ thickened considerably, he’d noticed, his mustache not as scraggly as it’d been even just a year ago.

“Adam would be _so happy to see you_ —if he ever stops smoking those fucking cigarettes, he knows his mother has asthma,” Maj-Britt says, and Elias takes this as an opportunity. “I’ll go see him then, I don’t mind a little smoke.”

Maj-Britt’s mouth snaps shut, her fake lashes fluttering as she realizes he intends to leave and not come back.

“Oh,” she stutters, sad at being left alone with his brothers, who are far less engaging conversationalists than himself, but Elias shrugs, accepting her fate. This is a funeral; it’s normal for people to be sad, what’s the big deal if he adds a little more to it by leaving a conversation before it ended?

“Cheese?” Josef ask, Gabriel squawking as Pia emerges from behind a throng of grandparents, reaching to pull him into a hug that squishes him against her fleshy neck and boobs of comparable size to the silicone ones Maj-Britt had installed in Spain.

Boobs in general tend to remind him of important masturbation fodder, but all Elias can think about is Adam’s sweet little mouth and soft skin and those sky-high heels the omega was wearing, so he leaves the rest behind, focused on obtaining his main goal.

Heading towards the laundry room, he realizes the door is semi-barricaded with laundry baskets and detergent bottles, Adam perched on the washing machine, airing his cigarette out the tiny window.

“Hey come down from there, you could fall,” Elias says, shoving his shoulder against the door till the pile of stuff moves enough for him to get through.

“Elias! I had no idea you were out there,” Adam says, clambering down from the washing machine and throwing himself into Elias’s arms. “Oh, I missed you, silly…Why haven’t you called me all this time? God, this is an awful suit.”

“ _That’s_ rude,” Elias snorts, too embarrassed to admit that Adam had never offered his number, and that he had been too scared to ask.

“Well, it doesn’t even fit. This isn’t the time for dressing like _Miami Vice_ anymore, cuz,” Adam says, stroking his hands over Elias’s back as he snuggles closer, making him shiver.

He’d always liked when the little omega called him that.

Adam’s mother had married Elias’s second uncle once removed or something like that, once upon a time. They weren’t married anymore, but this was Adam’s way of saying that he liked him, or so Elias thought.

His pants strain against his now full-blown erection, and he tries to put hands in front of himself to hide the obscene bulge.

“It’s better than whatever you’re wearing,” Elias blushes, Adam smacking him on the chest.

“Fair point, Mum insists I wear the most awful things. She told me the skirt I wore to Thor’s birthday was too short for a funeral, as if I cared. This was our ‘compromise’.”

“Maj Britt was saying you were moody. Was it because of your mother?” Elias asks, putting his head atop Adam’s curls—his hair smells like jasmine, Elias notices—clasping his arms around Adam’s shoulders and enveloping him in his arms.

The omega is so small he’s all but swallowed up by his embrace.

“Elias, you don’t have to lie to me. You can smell it, even over the smoke,” Adam says, and Elias realizes he’s forgotten about the smoldering bud, now, turning to ash in Adam’s delicate outstretched hand.

Elias blanches.

“Is there something wrong with you?” he demands, sniffing and frantic at Adam’s neck glands, bringing the boy’s wrist up to his nose.

“Hey, that tickles,” Adam giggles, rubbing his index finger over the stubble on Elias’s cheek.

“I haven’t—God, I’m going to, but it hasn’t happened yet. It’s been _three weeks_ , I’ve been in pre-heat, but I haven’t had my first cycle.”

Elias scrunches up his face.

“What? You’re old for a first heat, Adam, but you must know that menstruation starts at different ages. You should see a doctor if you’re so concerned.”

Adam bursts out laughing.

“No need to be so matter-of-fact about it, skat,” he smiles, bringing the cigarette up to his mouth. “Ugh, _Alphas_. Hey, let my arm go, I’m trying to have a smoke.”

“I did see a doctor, by the way. Some beta who told me to be patient. Told me hormone therapy was dangerous, even though Mum said it would help. My tits are achy, my stomach’s been clenching up, and I’ve been having mood swings every two seconds.”

Adam’s bottom lip is trembling, and Elias swallows, throat dry, at the pretty bow of his pouty lips. His throat is dry. He knows that Adam needs help, but he isn’t sure how to comfort him.

“I—I think. I don’t know how to make you feel better, Adam, but there’s. _There’s something about your scent that’s different_ …,” Elias says, realizing the difference as his inner Alpha tells him to crush the boy against him.

_Protect_ , he purrs to himself, _That’s the difference_.

Adam had been a child before, not ready to mate. But now, his Alpha rumbles _Mount him mount him mounthimmounthimmounthim_.

“Something? What something?” Adam asks, gasping as Elias’s hands wander down, down, down, the cigarette falling from the omega’s hand as fingers grab ahold of his ass, pull his cheeks apart despite the fabric containing them.

“I-It, uh, it made me hard when you kissed me at Maj-Britt’s wedding three years ago,” Elias says, voice thick. “But I’m so much harder now.”

Adam exhales through his nose, trying to break Elias’s hold to get some air, though he’s trembling, as if he doesn’t want to go.

“The moment you scented me, I started to get wet,” he confesses in a whisper. “Elias, what the fuck, I haven’t ever gotten wet before.”

That word from those perfect lips, and Elias almost comes in his pants.

He makes a wordless noise of almost-agony, covering Adam’s whole body, knocking things off the laundry shelf as he looms over the omega, scenting for that beautiful, sweet tang of Adam’s slick, curious tongue licking at the place where Adam’s hole should be, beneath his clothes.

“E-Elias,” Adam moans, unfastening the buttons on his romper, kicking the thing aside with an inelegant fling. It gets caught on one of his shoes, and Elias rips at the strings of it, flings the heel to the door, where it lands with a loud bang. He doesn’t care if anyone comes in to investigate the noise and sees them, doesn’t care for anything save Adam’s heaving little tits, the pinkish bud of his winking hole, already dripping with slick.

“Take off your trousers at least,” Adam says, whine-sighing, Elias’s fingers tripping over each other trying to take his cock out of his pants before be blows, grunting in frustration as his belt gets stuck.

In a fit of alpha strength, he snaps the stupid thing in half, unzipping his slacks, heavy cock flopping out of his boxers. He gives a fascinated hum as Adam squirms towards his dick, Elias slapping his glans against that little puddle of honey gathering along the crack of Adam’s ass.

Rubbing his shaft against Adam’s inner thighs, he registers the spasm of Adam’s naked foot in his periphery, perched on his shoulder, watches a little trickle of cum slipping down onto the cold tiles. Adam’s slick is thin and dripping, and Elias feels his knot inflate so fast he gets a little lightheaded.

He needs to rut, and he needs it now.

“Fuck,” he says. “ _Fuckfuckfuck_.” His cockhead slips past Adam’s clenching hole, Adam crying out, fingers clamping dents into his back, his pretty white toes in Elias’s face as the Alpha sucks two into his mouth.

“Oh my _God,_ Elias,” Adam sobs, long hair tangled and sweaty as they rut, Adam leaning up into him, Adam’s upturned hips making sure Elias slides into him, _deep_.

“Ow, ow,” Adan says, Elias’s knot pressing in as the omega’s channel clenches down, trying to keep him there.

“Adam, I’m sorry, wait,” Elias stammers, tugging gently as tears still come to Adam’s eyes, biting his lip at how hard he still remains, though Adam is in no condition to help him, panting and wretched as they both are.

A sudden idea comes to him. Due to his consistent masturbatory tendencies, an active fantasy life was what kept him going—he’s seen a ton of porn and even things on Gabriel’s weird nature documentaries that he had to watch for his dissertation—and they were full of inspiration for difficult situations like this.

“Adam, would you,” he asks, unable to wait for a real answer, pulling out and tugging Adam from missionary into a lordosis pose, baring the omega’s sweetly freckled back and round cheeks to his greedy gaze.

A bead of sweat rolls down, settles in his mustache. His hair is plastered to his forehead, the room bathed in an overwhelming tang of Alpha musk, with a hint of the fresh jasmine of Adam’s natural perfume.

“It’s not going to fit, Elias,” Adam says, Elias realizing his thumb’s been massaging Adam’s hole while his cock tries its vainest to find its way in.

Elias grips himself, slides between Adam’s cheeks, hypnotized as Adam takes the initiative to spread his dripping thighs a bit, fingering some slick out of himself and spreading it along his inner thighs.

“Come on,” he says, smirking around a bitten lower lip, and clamps his thighs around Elias’s cock, prompting him to thrust as Elias picks up and moves in time with Adam’s counter rhythm.

The sight and syrup thick scent of it makes Elias speed up the movement of his hips, Adam’s slick gushing onto the floor beneath them.

Elias can’t help it, grunting excitedly at the slight bounce of Adam’s cheeks as he slides himself between Adam’s thighs, the sensation of the omega’s small, tight balls rubbing, velvet-soft, against his shaft.

His come splashes all over the floor before he remembers to aim it towards the omega, pulling back and leaving the rest in an arcing spray over Adam’s back, some shooting far enough to coat his hair.

“Shit,” he wheezes, Adam collapsing onto a pile of dirty towels, Elias falling on top of him, exhausted and crushing him to the floor.

“Elias,” Adam groans, but doesn’t move.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your heat,” Elias says, and Adam’s brow furrows before he scoffs, brought to the understanding that his earlier problem’s been solved, that initial epiphany lost in the heat of the moment.

“Thanks, love,” he smiles, whispering, ducking his head cutely as he turns and nuzzles his warm cheek against Elias’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> This fully embraced the spirit of PWP I feel. 
> 
> @penseeart on Twitter


End file.
